


venus flytrap

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Vine RPF
Genre: M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 13:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Danny says something and Drew is half - asleep, so he doesn’t really hear it. “What?”“Do you think pigeons have feelings?”





	venus flytrap

It is two forty one am and they have Playlist Live in the morning and Drew did not ask for two beds because he did not think Danny would be staying with him. The end result of this equation sums up to them having to share a bed at the last minute disaster, something Drew is not that pleased about, but he doesn’t hate the guy either. Danny’s a friend.

Still, Drew does not have enough patience for this, which is why when Drew rolls over awoken at hell hours of the early half - light to see Danny, wide - eyed, he is unbothered.

Danny says something and Drew is half - asleep, so he doesn’t really hear it. “What?”

“Do you think pigeons have feelings?”

“No,” says Drew, immediate, dim, trying to offer any kind of answer to shut the other up. “Uh.” Danny comes closer, trying to hear Drew’s sleep - starved musing, knocking shoulders as Drew squints at him. Blue eyes, cobalt in the dark. Danny is kind of smudgy. “You can stop that.”

“Provide _evidence_ —” Danny yawns, _completely_ ignoring Drew’s disgust at his morning breath, “to support your reasoning.”

“Um, alright.” Drew slumps back, his head hitting the pillow. He should be asleep. “Birds have brains, and therefore a proper thinking process. While not perhaps as, um, intelligent, _holy shit,_ why am I arguing this?” Jagged, turning to the other, a drowsy hiss is an understated summary of his current tone. “What’s your problem? It’s God knows in the morning, and you’re thinking about fucking pigeons?”

Some ungodly high noise as protest escapes from Danny’s throat. “It’s a valid question.”

“It’s not a valid question. I shut that down faster than Vine died.”

Trying to establish some kind of superiority, they instead angrily stare at each other. It doesn’t work, though, because of the following microcosms:

  * Drew keeps blinking.
  * Danny’s head is three quarters obscured by the blankets.
  * Drew really, really, really wants to sleep.



After twenty seven minutes and fifty five seconds, Drew huffs. “Motherfucker, look at me.”

“No.” Danny is stubborn.

“Danny Gonzalez, be a man and look at me.”

“No.”

“Danny.”

“Drew, it’s complicated, okay?”

In a sharp movement, Drew grabs his jaw and angles it so they’re eye level. Their foreheads, noses brush together and Drew scrunches his face up, trying to look intimidating, and only serves to ruin his face structure as the blankets rustle. He’s snapping as the clock strikes three. Their lips are touching. “Look at me. Tell me if pigeons have feelings is a good debate question that was worthy of snatching away any possibility I had of regaining my sleep.”

Danny’s voice is soft, strained. Oh, now _he’s_ sleepy. **_Bitch_**. “I never joined debate club.”

“Answer the question.”

“Mhn—” and Danny beats around the bush, looks up at Drew through long lashes, “I’m _cold_.”

What? “What?” What did that have anything to do with pigeons?

“Once I’m warmer, I’ll tell you if it was a good question.”

Drew’s whole face dents. It’s cold in here, and Danny knows that. The quantity of hotel sheets don’t automatically approximate what the comforts of a good heater have to offer. He’d get up, grab a sweater, but he’s incapacitated by fatigue and furrowed brows and Danny’s foot, kicking at Drew’s leg aimlessly, dreaming awake.

“Dude, I’m not about to spoon you.”

“Okay, well, fuck you.”

Danny turns away from him and burrows a way into the sheets, refusing, the faint flush at the back of his neck rosy. Defiant, are both of them, obstinate and restlessly so, Drew staring at the remaining curls poking out from under the covers that belong to his accomplice.

Drew is going to get an answer.

Doggedly, he moves forward, arms wrapping around Danny’s torso to pull him close against Drew’s chest — Danny’s comfort, _warm_ , and oh, _shit_ , this is sort of nice as Danny’s hair brushes just over his ear, alright, o _kay_ , Drew’s not disgusted, and this was kind of a _better_ solution anyway, he was freezing his ass off by himself. Drew is practically benefiting more than Danny. Take that, the few Vines that never really got on the homepage but deserved to.

He leans forward, voice serendipitous and slow, chin resting o’er Danny’s shoulder (just free from under the blankets that ensnare them both) and skin flush against skin. Drew’s lips are millimetres away from the dawning of Danny’s jaw. Drew knows Danny knows this. Drew has not a clue what to do with this information. “Answer the question.”

Danny’s eyes have fallen shut. “I fo _rrr—_ got.” His voice hiccups over an uncertain, quiet bend. Drew hears Danny’s breath hitch as his arms tighten around him.

Awkward, “Well, uh, would you like me to stay like this?”

it’s whispered back. “Yeah, if that’s, um, okay.”

What did any of this have to do with pigeons?

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'ed 3am arguing. feedback's appreciated
> 
> #virginsforlivesdespitethewives


End file.
